


Hook, Line and Oh God Robert's Sinking

by Blizzard_Fire



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Kiss of Life, M/M, Opposites Attract, Pre-Slash, Rare Pairings, Robert Can't Swim, Robert needs to open up, Romance, Smallhard, Two Dorks Fishing, Wingman Mary, bottom robert, concussion, fishing trip!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzard_Fire/pseuds/Blizzard_Fire
Summary: Hey, buddy! Pick you up at 4.30? 4.30am, that is. Best time of day for it!Wow. Okay. Maybe Brian was a guy after Robert’s own heart, after all. The guy was built like an ox. If he decided to pin Robert down on the bed and show him a good time, he certainly wouldn’t be complaining…For fishing, I mean. Did I mention it’s a fishing trip?‘Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,’ he groaned.Robert and Brian go on a fishing trip together. What could go wrong?





	Hook, Line and Oh God Robert's Sinking

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw Robert in Dream Daddy I fell hard. I read some truly fantastic fanfic on here and knew I had to try my hand at it. So instead of working on the millionth draft of my novel I blasted through a few ideas until finishing this one. If you sleep with Robert on the first night there's a lovely scene at Joseph's barbeque where you and Robert are super awkward and Brian obliviously introduces you. And I realised there's next to nothing shipping these two (Smallhard? Hardsmall? Hehe). It seemed a fun challenge to write for, so in a similar vein to Brian date 2, here's two dorks fishing. With plenty of Robert love, because I'm a H/C freak.

If there was one thing Robert hated more than small talk, it was fishing.

He glared down at the beautiful calm lake, which reflected the beautiful rising sun and the beautiful brightening sky.

‘Beautiful out here, isn’t it?’ said the man sitting beside him on the boat. ‘It’s my favourite place to fish. All tucked away. You’d never find it unless you knew where it was.’

Robert grunted in acknowledgment, leaning his head on one hand and holding the rod in the other. His fingers ached from the cold; autumn winds skimmed the water’s glassy surface. Why the fuck had he agreed to come out here? His back ached from the hours they’d already spent sitting on the hard wooden seats. Brian had insisted he wear a life jacket. But Robert was too cool for a life jacket. Now he was wondering if it might have provided him with some warmth.

‘Like I always tell Daisy, the early bird catches the worm. The fish are more active at dawn and dusk so now’s the best time to catch ‘em.’ Brian sat opposite him on the little rowboat, the picture of contentment in shirt and cargo shorts despite the chill. Not a single goosebump on his hairy legs. He beamed at Robert like they did this all the time. ‘You want a beer?’

‘I’m good.’ He reached into the pocket of his trusty leather jacket and took out the hip flask Hugo had gotten him one Christmas ( _‘What are you, a grandpa?’_ Mary had sneered). The familiar burn of whiskey took the edge off the chill but did nothing for his frozen fingers.

‘You know, I figured you’d be a fishing kinda guy. You and me, we’re both outdoors-y types.’

‘Yeah.’ That raised a small smile. Robert liked taking walks before the sun had risen. He wandered the woods, the graveyard, anywhere far from people that gave him space to think. Coincidentally he often crossed paths with Brian as he walked his dog. Betsy and Maxwell were good pals. He’d reluctantly left her at Brian’s for this trip since she’d probably just eat all the bait. He still wasn’t sure what had led him to agree to this. It wasn’t like he and Brian were best buddies; apart from the occasional handshake at Joseph’s barbeques (which he only endured for the free food) they never hung out together.

 

The invitation had come from nowhere last night whilst he’d been at Jim and Kim’s:

_Hey buddy, how ya been? I’m heading out on a little adventure tomorrow and you seem like the kind of guy who appreciates the great outdoors. Fancy keeping me company on the open road?_

He’d shown the text to Mary, who read it over a couple of times. “Appreciates the great outdoors”, huh? Musta seen you take a shit on Joseph’s lawn or something.’

Robert sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. It was a vague invitation. ‘Could mean anything. He’s got plenty of friends. What’s he want with me?’

‘Probably trying to do his good deed for the day. Sad shit like you needs to get out of this bar more.’ She shrugged, still staring down at his phone.

‘We’ve got nothing in common. Guy’s got everything but the white picket fence.’ Always looked so _happy_ about everything too. Perfect house, perfect kid. Goody two-shoes.

‘Robert. Sweetie.’ Mary leaned over to grasp his elbow. ‘It’s okay to be nervous about making new friends.’

‘Fuck off.’ He shrugged off her grip. ‘I’m not – ‘

‘Or are you worried he’s gonna take you out into the wilderness and get you both hopelessly lost, so that you’re eventually forced to revert to your primitive animalistic instincts and roam there forever after losing your entire sense of self?’

‘I don’t – what?’

She shrugged and sipped her drink. ‘That or fucking to stay warm. Take your pick.’

Mmm, hold that thought. Robert gave himself a mental shake. ‘Whose side are you on here? Hey, gimme that!’

Mary snatched his phone out of reach, thumbs a blur as she texted a reply. ‘Thank me later.’

Robert nearly spilled his drink trying to wrest the phone from her grasp. ‘The fuck are you doing, Mary?

‘I can’t always be around to babysit you. Get yourself a second friend.’ Her face was the picture of smugness as she finally relinquished her grip. Robert read what “he’d” replied.

_snds gud, u free tmorro?_

_;)_

_llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll_

_klkjllll….,_

‘What’s with the winking face? That could mean anything.’ In Robert’s book, it meant one very specific thing. But Brian wouldn’t get it. Hopefully.

‘Grow a pair, Robert.’

‘I thought we were friends.’ Even as he glared down at his phone, Brian was typing a reply. Ten seconds, twenty… Discomfort curled in his chest before he reminded himself that he did not care what Brian thought. He hadn’t agreed to any of this.

_Yeah, tomorrow is great! Pick you up at 4.30?_

Robert glared at Mary. Mary stared coolly back, sipping her drink without breaking eye contact.

_4.30am, that is. Best time of day for it!_

Wow. Okay. Maybe Brian was a guy after Robert’s own heart, after all. The guy was built like an ox. He could probably bend Robert in half if he wanted to. And if he decided to pin Robert down on the bed and show him a good time, he certainly wouldn’t be complaining…

_For fishing, I mean. Did I mention it’s a fishing trip?_

‘Oh, you’re fucking kidding me.’

Mary snickered. ‘What’s the matter? Fishing should be right up your alley. All that open water and contemplative silence. Endless opportunity for brooding. And you get to kill and eat something at the end of it.’

Robert stared unhappily at the texts. Of all the possible activities…

‘Aww, my baby Bobby is all grown up.’ Mary wiped away an imaginary tear, saw his expression then thumped him on the shoulder. ‘Oh, lighten up. You’ll enjoy it. Just two dudes out on the open water, stroking their rods.’

Robert downed the last of his drink. ‘I’m gonna get you for this.’ He stood up.

‘Hey, where are you going?’

‘To get some sleep. Since thanks to you I’m getting up at the buttcrack of dawn.’

Mary grinned and saluted him with her glass. ‘That’s my boy.’ 

 

Robert was staring absently at Brian for three whole seconds before he realised Brain was smiling uncertainly back at him. ‘Not much of a talker, are you Robert?’

He quickly put on a mask of indifference. ‘I’d rather skip to the part where I kill and eat a defenceless animal,’ he deadpanned, without blinking.

Brian guffawed, his huge shoulders shaking. ‘I pity the fish you catch, I really do.’ He was still smiling as he looked back at his fishing rod. It looked comically small in his large hands. Strong hands, Robert noted, then returned his attention to the open water. There was an awful lot of water here. Who knew what lay below them? It was probably crawling with plesiosaurites. Plenty of things had survived the dinosaur age. Most people were just too stupid to see the obvious government coverups. Out here, anything could be hiding.

What bothered him most though was all that deep water.

Brian stopped trying to engage him in conversation. The world shrank to Robert’s frozen hands and the pole he couldn’t feel in his fingers. The bank of the lake was so far… He took another swig of whisky. It was time for Robert’s favourite pastime. Well, second favourite pastime. ‘Haven’t been fishing in nearly ten years, actually.’

Brian cracked open a can of beer and glanced up. ‘Oh?’

‘Not since…’ He took a deep breath in through his nose and let out a long sigh. He counted to five. ‘It was March thirty-first. Had an old fishing buddy named Jacob Peterson, used to meet up every couple months and take his old man’s rowboat out on the lake. He loved fishing. Lived for it. But it wasn’t the fish he was really interested in.’ He paused for dramatic effect.

Brian leaned forward. ‘Well, I guess it’s not really about the fish. It’s the company that counts, right?’ There was an earnest twinkle in his green eyes.

Not fair. Brian did not get to put him off his stride, here. He might be the master of fishing but this was Robert’s element. ‘Until his dying day, he was convinced that there was something living in the lake,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps not living exactly. A ghost, an imprint of the thing that might have once been there. I didn’t believe him at first. Then came March thirty-first.’ Gaze, middle-distance. Wistful look, maximum. ‘I told him not to go out on the water. Idiot wouldn’t listen. The night before they’d fished out the body of a drowned woman. I was there. I’ll never forget the sight of – ‘

‘Woah, first catch of the day!’ Brian scrambled to attention and started hauling on his fishing rod. ‘Almost missed ‘er!’

Robert gawped at him. ‘I wasn’t finished,’ he said lamely as Brian plucked a plump trout from his hook.

‘Aww sorry Robert. I promise I was listening. Got a little excited, there. Please, continue.’

Robert considered where to take his story, then realised his heart hadn’t been in it anyway. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Unnerving people was his speciality. No, it was his art. Why wasn’t Brian affected?

‘You know,’ he said, depositing the fish in the bucket, ‘you don’t have to impress me. Folks seem to think I’m competitive, but it’s all in good fun.’

Competitive? The thought hadn’t occurred to Robert. ‘I’m not trying to impress you,’ he said automatically. Then wondered if that was true.

‘I just wanted to get to know you a little better. Feels like I know everyone in our cul-de-sec except for you. It’s not like you make it easy for folks to talk to you.’

Something in Robert squirmed under his gaze. It made it hard to maintain his closed-off expression. ‘I… don’t really do socialising,’ he said eventually, which was the most truthful thing he’d said all day.

Brian smiled. ‘So why’d you come here with me?’

Robert didn’t have an answer for that. Well, he did. But not one that fit with his image. ‘Didn’t have any other plans.’

He chuckled. ‘I see.’

They lapsed into silence again. The gentle rocking of the boat made Robert constantly aware that there was nothing solid beneath their fragile boat. They were stranded on open water… no people for miles around. He’d had sex on a boat, once. He was nineteen, and he’d got drunk with Jacob Peterson, a summer fling. The guy was real, but Jacob had never been fishing in his life. They’d climbed into an old sailing boat that had been tied up on the beach for the night. Robert had pulled back the heavy blue tarpaulin and they’d crawled in together and explored each other’s bodies in delicious detail. He’d ended the night with a butt full of splinters but it had been worth it.

Robert was fine with boats. Just not when they were on the water. But he found himself wondering how they might manage the same feat out here. Brian was a lot bigger than Jacob; it would be easy for the boat to capsize. He also didn’t seem the type for Robert to boss around easily. As he drummed his fingers on the pole, he lamented how it was always him who had to make the first move. No one ever came up to _him_ at the bar and offered to walk him home. Wasn’t like he made himself approachable. He did the inviting over, the fucking and the kicking out the next day.

He couldn’t imagine inviting Brian home for a quick grope and sending him on his way. Robert wasn’t quite sure why he was even thinking about this. The guy had a kid. Clearly he wasn’t interested in someone like him. So why the hell had he invited him out here?

Something tugged on Robert’s line. He started and sat up, renewing his grip on the pole.

‘You got a bite?’ Brian leaned over to look. ‘Big one?’

Whatever it was, it was putting up a fight. Robert stood up, straining to see whatever it was. It could be anything. Maybe it even was a plesiosaurite. Maybe whatever it was belonged in the water, undiscovered…

‘Careful Robert, you’re gonna tip the boat.’

Robert wobbled and a strong hand grabbed his thigh, steadying him. The pole jerked in his hands but he wasn’t letting go. His frozen fingers refused to relinquish their grip.

Robert Small wasn’t a quitter. And he wasn’t intimidated by a fucking lake.

‘I got this,’ he growled. And then the pole jerked again. He wobbled, the boat tipped sideways and he was plunged into freezing darkness.

Cold fire engulfed his limbs, sending his brain into shock. The salt stung his eyes as he looked around, desperate to find the surface. Perhaps he was under the shadow of the boat but he couldn’t see any sunlight, couldn’t get a sense of up or down. All he knew was that he was sinking, and fast. Robert floundered, unable to orient himself. A fish darted around him. A bucket sank beside him, spilling its fishing equipment in slow-motion.

The only sound was the rush of water and the pulse of his slowing heart. He clawed at the water, lungs screaming for air. He had to take a breath, even if it was just a lungful of water…

White stars swept across his vision. He couldn’t fight this anymore. His limbs were so cold he couldn’t feel them even as he kicked and struggled. He was going to die in some shitty lake in the middle of nowhere. On a _fishing trip._

Robert stopped fighting. He tried to think of something poignant, to feel some vague satisfaction with how he’d spent his time on earth, but all he could think of was that he should have at least tried to bang Brian on the boat. Then he might have at least had some fun before he drowned.

He opened his mouth to try to shout, and watched the last bubble of breath trickle out and disappear into the darkness. His eyes drooped closed. A shadow fell upon him, then there was nothing.

 

Darknesss. Light. Everything felt so heavy… Robert let his mind drift and wished for five more minutes of sleep.

Someone slammed him down on the ground so hard his teeth clacked together, then there was a hot mouth on his. The scratchiness of a full beard tickling his nose. Robert wondered whether he had died doing what he loved after all, or if this was some version of the afterlife. Or maybe he’d had too many whiskeys last night and the guy he’d taken home didn’t know when to quit. Not that he minded morning sex, just that there was a searing pain in his head. Nothing seemed to really matter right now.

‘Come on Robert, start breathin’.’ Someone was shaking him. ‘Can you hear me?’ His nose was pinched shut and the mouth returned, blowing air into his lungs. A cold wind stung his cheeks – was he outside?

The warm air left him in a rush as soon as the mouth went away. Why couldn’t he just let him sleep… why was he out here anyway? He remembered a long car ride with Brian then –

Oh, yeah. Fucking fishing.

Robert choked and lashed out blindly at the man leaning over him. Strong hands took his shoulders and turned him onto his side, holding him steady as he coughed and hacked and shuddered. He was lying on the bank of the lake, the mid-morning sun glaring down through the clouds.

‘You okay champ?’ Brian was kneeling over him, ginger hair plastered to his forehead. ‘Had me worried for a minute there.’ It was an attempt at his usual jovial tone but it was full of concern.

Robert gulped in air between coughs. ‘I’m – I’m – ‘ He coughed and coughed until he puked up half a lungful of foul-tasting water. ‘Fuckin _peachy_.’

Brian barked a laugh and clambered off him to sit back on his haunches. ‘At least you’re back to your usual self. Oh man, that could’ve taken a turn.’

Robert retched miserably. He was soaked to the skin and freezing cold. Dammit, he hadn’t come here to make an ass of himself. He tried to sit up, but found himself too weak to move. Brian stared out at the lake. The boat floated in the middle of it, a little wooden mushroom. He’d swum all the way from there? With Robert?

He closed his eyes and lay still, fighting sleep. Goddam it was cold out here. When he opened his eyes again Brian was peering at him worriedly. A big hand rested on his head, parting his hair. ‘Gonna have a nice goose egg there later. Think you hit your head on the boat when you went over.’ The hand lingered, the thumb tracing the edge of the throbbing pain just above his forehead. ‘Jeez, you went down like a lead balloon. Robert… you can’t swim?’

Robert’s eyes snapped open and he shot him his best fuck-off glare. ‘Of course I can.’

He couldn’t. Robert Small, who could survive in the wilderness with only a pocket knife, had never learned how to swim. At high school, he’d skived swim lessons to smoke behind the biology classrooms. And he was way too old to go to a damn swim class now.

‘There’s nothing wrong with wearing a life jacket, y’know.’

Robert closed his eyes again. Brian’s hand was still cradling his head. ‘I can take care of myself,’ he muttered, clamping his teeth together to stop them chattering. He was a lone wolf, didn’t need to rely on anyone. Certainly not Brian. He could keep his own damn body temperature up. He reached up a heavy arm and searched his jacket pockets. ‘Where’s my flask?’

'Your...?' Brian drew away and looked about in puzzlement, then his face fell. 'I'm sorry Robert, it must’ve sank.’

He curled up, grass tickling his cheek. 'Hope the damn fish like whiskey.'

Brian laughed. 'I might have a couple beers stashed away somewhere...'

He shook his head. 'Forget it.' Then the coughing took hold of him again. Fuck, it was cold. Sleep tugged at his mind. ‘Just… leave me here a minute. I’m fine.’ The last thing he heard was Brian’s sigh before he passed out again.

Endless, bone-shaking cold. Robert drifted through dreams of darkened forests and desert islands, hunted by unseen creatures. Mary was there too, but she kept insisting that they stop and have a drink first. ‘I’ll text the monsters for you,’ she told Robert. ‘You need other friends besides me.’ Then something ate him and he woke up.

‘Nearly there,’ Brian grunted in his ear. The world was moving around him. Robert was… being carried? ‘How you holdin’ up?’

He was slumped against Brian’s shoulder. Robert raised his head. He felt… drunk. They both reeked of lakewater, and there was pondweed tangled in Brian’s curly hair. He carried Robert like he weighed nothing, one strong arm tucked under his shoulders and the other under his knees. ‘Bridal style, huh? Gentlemanly of you.’

Brian’s soft chuckle was warm in his ear. ‘I think your dignity’s the last thing you should be worried about right now.’

‘Mmm.’ He sighed, grateful for the body heat Brian lended. ‘Toldya I can take care of myself.’

‘You can’t be a lone wolf all the time, buddy. Sometimes you need a helping hand.’ A cloud of birds rose up in the distance. Robert watched them fly high over the disappearing lake until the view was swallowed by trees. ‘Not everyone’s out to get you, you know.’

Robert turned his head and found that Brian’s face was very very close to his. Brian’s little puffs of hot air were the only sign of his exertion of carrying him. His face looked a little pink. It went pinker as Robert reached up to pull pondweed out of his hair. ‘Suits you,’ he muttered, not sure which he was referring to.

‘I’m gonna be honest with you.’ Brian’s deep voice rumbled through his chest. Everything about him was the embodiment of safety and comfort. The polar opposite of the guy with the leather jacket and knife collection. ‘I asked you on this trip because you looked like you needed a friend. You’re always the one standing alone at the barbeque. No one knows much about you. And I think you push people away because… I don’t know. Maybe you don’t like relying on people.’

Robert remained silent. He was indeed, the definition of independent. He was cool and standoffish and indestructible. And right now here he was: soaking wet, smelling of fish and floppier than a used condom. He hated it. But in a way, it was nice to have an excuse to just… let go a little.

Brian met his eyes and there was genuine concern there. ‘When’s the last time someone looked after you, Robert?’ he asked gently.

Robert curled his arm around around his neck and kissed him. He tasted like… lake water. And his beard felt slimy against Robert’s stubble. It was brief and gentle, just a grazing of lips without the heat of tongue or teeth. But there was something comforting in it, and there was a warmth in his chest as Brian hesitantly reciprocated, then awkwardly drew his head back. ‘Uh, maybe now isn’t the best time,’ he stuttered.

Robert leaned his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. ‘Big guy like you could take me on. First thing I noticed about you, how strong you were.’

‘Let’s… just get you back to the car.’

‘Tease.’

‘Robert, I think you have concussion.’

‘Concussion shmonshmussion.’ But he shut up and let himself be carried the rest of the long walk back to Brian’s car. They were parked at the top of a small hill. Brian managed to wrangle the passenger door open and gently lowered him into it. ‘I think I’ve got some blankets in the back… best to uh, maybe get your wet clothes off.’

Robert smirked as Brian quickly disappeared round the back of the car, then winced as he opened his jacket and cold air swirled in. He shrugged out of it, noting thankfully that there were no tears in it before tossing it on the back seat. Off came the shirt next, which peeled reluctantly off his body. He looked down at his scarred chest and was disappointed not to be adding to his collection. Not a scratch on him. The shirt joined his jacket with a soft squelch.

Pants were more difficult, but he got his fly undone and shimmied out of his soaking wet jeans. Warm air was blowing out of the air con, he noticed, Brian’s key already in the ignition. Good guy. Pants were also dumped in the back.

He was toeing off his shoes when Brian reappeared with the thickest woollen blanket he’d ever seen. ‘Try this on for size,’ he said jovially. His eyes flicked down to Robert’s chest, then guiltily back up again.

‘Like what you see?’ he purred.

Brian just laughed and chucked the folded blanket onto his lap. ‘Just put that on,’ he said, and shut the door.

Robert did as he was told, wrapping it around himself like a shawl, and instantly felt warmer. Brian got into the driver’s seat and leant across to buckle his seatbelt for him.

_Not everyone’s out to get you. When’s the last time someone took care of you, Robert?_

Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. His parents hadn’t. Marilyn… not really. They’d taken care of themselves. Mary was a friend and ear, but if he talked about his problems (and he never would), she’d probably just tell him to man up. Hangovers, he suffered alone. Anything else, he cured with one-night hook-ups.

Man, it felt good to let someone else be in charge for once.

‘Right, let’s get you home.’ Brian started the engine and they rolled down the hill, following the winding country roads. ‘Guess I wasn’t wrong about the adventure, huh?’

‘Mmm.’ Robert closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of something warm and dry against his bare skin.

‘I would have suggested something different if I’d known. Mary said you liked fishing.’

Robert opened one eye. ‘She did?’

‘Yeah, well.’ Brian lapsed into silence for a while, eyes on the road. ‘I asked her what you were into. Uh, activities and stuff. I figured she knows you better than most people.’

Robert opened his other eye. ‘Right.’ He was going to kill Mary when he saw her.

Brian didn’t look away from the road, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel as he chuckled. ‘Guess you weren’t the one trying to impress someone today, huh?’

‘Guess not.’ He found himself smiling as he stared out of the window, but maybe he was still giddy from the bang on the head. The trip had been an utter failure, and yet… it really was nice to know that someone cared about him. And wasn’t just faking it to get in his pants.

He started to thaw out under the blanket. Robert yawned and remembered he’d been up since 4am. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered, so quietly he barely heard himself. But from the quirk of Brian’s lips, he’d got the message. He closed his eyes.

By the time they got back to Maple Bay it was early afternoon. The trees cast flashing shadows across Robert’s eyelids, rousing him from sleep. He raised his head, realising he’d drooled all over his shoulder.

‘Looks like we’re home. This one’s your house, right?’ They pulled into Robert’s drive, alongside his beaten-up truck. Back home. Time to get his game face back on. As soon as the car stopped moving Robert wound a hand out of the cocoon of blankets and opened the door. Cool air swirled around his bare legs and he wondered why any woman would wear a skirt at this time of year. He pressed his bare feet to the paved driveway and cautiously stood up. The giddiness had improved, though his legs felt three times heavier than they should be. He was ready to do a bolt back to his house, then remembered his keys were in his jacket.

‘Hold your horses, let me get your stuff.’ Now he was at the mercy of Brian. Dammit. He’d be a laughing stock if he didn’t get inside soon.

‘Hey shithead!’ drawled a familiar voice. Robert’s heart sank. Mary wandered over as if she’d been waiting for them to return, a wry smile on her lips. ‘How’d your fishing trip go? Catch anything with your worm?’

He put on his best scowl and turned round. ‘Hey, turdface,’ he returned, in time to see her face crease in puzzlement.

‘What happened to – is that a _blanket_ you’re wearing?’ She drew back. ‘Are you naked under there?’

He winked. ‘Quiet or the whole street’ll wanna piece.’

‘Must have been some trip.’ She side-eyed Brian as he straightened up on the other side of the car. ‘I said take him fishing, not drown the guy.’

He chuckled nervously. ‘I did my best but he’s just too tough for me.’ He made a valiant attempt at hiding the bundle of Robert’s clothes in his arms as he strode up to the front door and searched the jacket for his keys. Just a few more minutes, Robert told himself, then he could take the indifferent mask off and sleep for a week.

‘Robert…’ Mary’s hand found his shoulder through the blanket’s thick padding. ‘God, you’re pale as birdshit. You okay?’

He grunted and nodded. ‘Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Don’t go tough guy on me. You look like you’ve seen war. He mess you around? Cuz if he did – ‘

‘I’m fine, Mary,’ he snapped, then sighed. ‘I… just had an accident. I uh, wouldn’t be here without him.’ He nodded stiffly at Brian’s broad back.

Her eyes widened. ‘Jesus, Robert. I told him to take you fishing so you couldn’t squirm away, not so you could pull a Titanic on him.’

Brian finally unlocked Robert’s door and shouldered it open. He turned back, a questioning look on his face.

‘You gonna be okay?’ Mary asked quietly. ‘Want me to stick around?’

The concern in her voice almost made him smile. ‘Nah, I’m good. Gonna sleep it off. Drinks are on me tonight.’

‘Fuck off.’ She slapped his arm lightly. ‘You come out tonight and I’ll beat your ass. I’ll check on you later.’ And she left, leaving Robert to do his manliest hobble to the door and into his house.

It was good to be home. ‘You can come in,’ he said to Brian, who hovered in the doorway. Without turning round to check if he had, he began the long trek up the stairs to his room. Brian’s steps were quiet, his freckled hand clutching the banister just behind him. It was a strange contrast to his usual visitors, who usually raced him up the stairs whilst he tore their clothes off. It felt odd to be… accompanied up here instead.

It was hard to move in the blanket. A few steps from the top his foot got caught in the wool and the blanket slid off, leaving him in just his underwear. He just stepped over it and kept going. Robert had lost all shame a long time ago. Brian said nothing and continued to follow him up the stairs.

Back in his room, Robert collapsed into bed with a grateful moan. Never again. Fish belonged in frozen fillets. He’d leave catching them to the people who actually got paid for it.

Brian set about draping his still-damp clothes over a chair. He held up Robert’s cellphone. ‘Would you look at that, still works.’ It was an ancient flip-phone but it had never failed him yet. It was old school, like him. As he set it down on the bedside table, it chirped a message tone. ‘I meant what I said, y’know.’ He leaned over and pulled the duvet over him. ‘We all know you’re a badass, but there’s nothing wrong with letting other people in.’ Brian smiled down at him, then bent down and placed the gentlest of kisses on his forehead. ‘This fixes everything, or so I’m told.’

There was a lump in Robert’s throat. A side-effect from swallowing that lake water, of course.

‘I’m gonna let you sleep. But I’ll come back in a couple hours and check on you, and I’ll bring Betsy with me.’

‘Sounds good,’ he slurred, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep again.

‘And when you’re up for it I’ll cook you something up. Something proper.’ Brian lingered for a moment, then he heard him move away towards the door.

‘As long as it’s not fish,’ he yawned.

Brian just chuckled, and the bedroom door closed. A few moments later, the front door closed too.

Robert dozed. Until a trilling sound woke him up again. ‘What now?’ he grumbled, fumbling for the phone on his bedside table. Dadbook notifications. All were private messages.

_Damien Bloodmarch: Greetings Robert, Mary just told me what happened. I do hope you’re alright. Let me know if I can be of any assistance._

_Hugo Vega: Hey, Damien messaged to say you had an accident. I know we haven’t spoken much but we’re all here for you. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask._

_Craig Cahn: Bro! Just saw you whilst I was out jogging. Hugo told me you’re under the weather. If you need anyone to walk Betsy I’m here. I’ve also got some great smoothie recipes if you need a lil_ _pepping up!_

_Joseph Christiansen: Hey, buddy. Mary told me what happened. You don’t need to reply. But I hope you’re okay._

_Mat Sella: Robert, u ok? everyone’s saying something happened. don’t know the details but if you need a guy with banana bread, you know who to call x_

And a final message from Mary: _if you don’t tap that I’m gonna be pissed. You owe me a drink. Also don’t die on me, Smalls._

Robert smiled, a little overwhelmed at the solidarity. Maybe there were a lot of people around him who cared. With the last of his strength, he opened up the thread between him and Brian and typed a out a message:

_thanks for the adventure. lets have another near-death experience sometime._

Brian’s response appeared moments later.

_You’re on! Glad you’re okay, Robert._

;)

Robert stared at the reply for a moment then closed his eyes with a chuckle. A winking face? That could mean anything.


End file.
